Hello, Dean
by Sluie92
Summary: WIP. Dean is badly hurt during a case. Destiel. Rated M cos we all know where this will end up.
1. Chapter 1

"Hello, Dean."

Dean's eyes widened and he almost choked on his beer as he heard the familiar voice. He looked around, trying to take in everything at once, but the bunker was quiet and still. He stood up, squinting into the dim light, but there was nothing.

"Dammit, Cas," he muttered, shaking his head as he sat down once more. He should have known. It wasn't the first time he'd heard the voice, the first time his heart had leapt in hope only to crash-land moments later. He was beginning to sympathise with Sam a little now; the whole Lucifer thing didn't seem as strange to him as it once had.

He shook his head again as if to rid it of all memory and went back to reading the case file.

* * *

"Dean? Where are you? Come back to me."

Dean looked up sharply, cracking his head on the hood of the car. He cursed, rubbing it, though the pain was a mere footnote compared to everything else he felt. He almost stopped himself from looking around this time, but hope won out and he scoured the garage for any sign of a trenchcoat. There was none, of course.

"God DAMN it," Dean said, slamming the hood of the car down. He stood for a few moments, silent and brooding, before throwing his wrench to the floor and storming off towards the kitchen.

* * *

"I need you, Dean."

Dean's eyes flicked open, though only darkness met them. For a moment he considered turning on the light, but eventually he decided against it and rolled over, though he had lost all hope of getting back to sleep.

* * *

"Please, Dean. I can't- I don't want…"

"It's okay, Cas. You know Dean, he'll make it through."

"But Sam, you saw what they did to him. Not even I can reverse this. He might never-"

"He will."

"How can you be so certain? His injuries were so extensive, his brain so damaged, it's incredible that he is even alive at all."

"He's done it before. We all have. The three of us, look at what we've been through. Hell, Purgatory, Heaven, demons, monsters, angels… Dean won't let this beat him. Okay?"

"Thank you, Sam. Is it- Is this an appropriate time to hug?"

* * *

Dean had never heard Sam's voice before. These hallucinations, they had always been Cas. A sentence or two at the most, never a full conversation. Something was different.

Why would he hear Sam's voice anyway, he wondered? Sam was here in the bunker, with him. Except, try as he might, Dean couldn't remember the last time he had clapped eyes on his little brother. A sudden panic enveloped him.

"Sam?" he called out, voice echoing. "Sammy?"

He padded down the hall in his socks, picking up speed as he went. He skidded around a corner and sprinted down another corridor. Corridor after corridor, each one longer than the last, a maze of closed doors and empty halls and each one longer than the last, spiralling round and round in an endless circle and Sam was nowhere to be seen.

"Sammy!" Dean bellowed. His own voice came back to him in a million desperate echoes. "Cas!"

Searing pain blossomed in his forehead, his vision blurred and suddenly he was blinded with white light… Then nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hello, God. Father. Uh, it's me, Castiel. I hope you have your ears connected. I need to ask you something very important.

"It's about Dean Winchester. I know I haven't been a model son lately, and to be honest I've started to doubt if you're there at all… But if you are, I need your help. Dean needs your help.

He's… He's not well. Sam and I are doing everything we can, but there doesn't seem to be any kind of cure for what happened to him. Nobody we've spoken to has ever seen anything like it, and I'm… I'm starting to lose hope.

"I know you've always kept an eye out for me, and for the Winchesters, so if you're there, please send help. Please. I-I've lost so much, and I know most of that was my fault but I-I can't lose Dean. Not now. Not like this.

"Please."

* * *

It was supposed to have been a straightforward case. Difficult, maybe, but straightforward. Nobody was supposed to get hurt.

Hunters had told Sam of a vampire nest warring over territory with a pack of werewolves and it was beginning to get messy. Dean had suggested bringing Cas and heading on over to help take the whole lot out. And that was how it had begun.

They arrived in Coon Rapids, Minnesota at 2am and checked straight into the first motel they found. The clerk had looked at the trio with raised eyebrows when they'd requested only one room, but said nothing and checked them in. She hadn't liked the way the one in the trenchcoat glowered at her.

On getting to the room, Dean dropped his bag and flopped face-first onto the mattress. Sam soon followed suit, but not before neatly setting his things aside. Wordlessly, Castiel watched over the brothers, listening intently to the sounds of the night.

After a few hours Sam was sleeping like a moose on tranquilizers but Dean was restless, and soon awoke. He looked around as he wiped the sleep from his eyes, smiling briefly at the look on Cas' face. He was watching the shopping channel and looked deeply perplexed.

With a glance at Sam to make sure he really was asleep, Dean got up and went to sit beside the angel. For a few minutes they watched TV in silence, but Dean's restlessness was apparent and Castiel turned to him with a look of concern. Dean sighed.

"Listen, Cas," he began, voice low. "When this is over I, uh, I need you to go. You can't come home with us. I'm sorry, buddy."

"What happened, Dean? I can help you if you tell me what's going on," Castiel replied, brow creased in worry.

"No, no, there's nothing going on. I promise. I just, uh-" Dean stuttered.

"Dean," said Cas, looking at him pointedly.

"No really, it's all good. It's just, uh, it's Sam. He's jealous because we're better friends and he hasn't got-"

"_Dean_."

"Alright! God damn it, alright," said Dean, glancing furtively at Sam. Thankfully he was still snoring loudly.

"Look, I'm just, uh, I'm going through a lot of stuff right now, okay? And you being around, it just complicates everything. I need some time to sort my head out."

There were a few beats where the only sound was the woman on TV twittering away about stainless steel knives, but both men paid her no heed.

"So," said Cas, eventually, "you're going to push away the one friend that might be able to help you through this 'stuff'? Is our bond not strong enough for you to trust me with whatever's bothering you?"

Dean groaned, passing a hand over his face.

"No, Cas, you don't get it. Out of all people, you can't help me. You're an angel, how could you understand?"

Castiel's frown deepened and for a moment he looked angry, but his face softened again as he looked at Dean.

"I understand a great deal more than you give me credit for, Dean. Yes, I am still an angel, but I'm different to most. I fell from Heaven of my own accord. For you. How many angels have done that?"

"Well, none, but-"

"I have fought monsters for you. I have healed you more times than I can count. I drop everything to come when you call me."

"Cas, I-"

"I marched on heaven for you. I killed my own brothers and sisters for you. I died, Dean, for you. Everything I've done since the day I dragged you out of the pit has been for you. Don't you think that perhaps I deserve to know why you're pushing me away?"

Dean said nothing for a very long time. Cas was staring at him in a way that made him feel both nervous and guilty but he just could not find the right words to explain himself. Time seemed to stretch in an otherworldly way and then, all of a sudden, Sam was standing in front of them demanding to know whose turn it was to get breakfast. Like shattering glass the tension broke and they went about their morning routine.


	3. Chapter 3

2am was a bad time to have arrived in Coon Rapids. In any town the night would be dangerous but in Coon Rapids 2am was when the night crawled with monsters. Both vampires and werewolves had seen the infamous Impala roll into town; had caught the lingering scent of petrol in the air and seen where the trail led. One word echoed around the town, a susurrus that spread like wildfire. _Winchesters._

* * *

"Okay," said Dean, pacing slowly in front of the fireplace. "Sam will take Cas and Sasha over to the vamp nest and take them out. We know where they are, and they'll be asleep for a few hours yet so it should be an easy job. In the meantime, Georgia can come with me and Paul to track down the wolves. By the time you guys get back we'll have a location and we can head out and clear them together. Everyone good?"

There was a chorus of muttered agreement from the hunters, accompanied by the sounds of guns being checked and knives being sharpened.

"Alright then. Georgia, Paul, you ready?"

Georgia was a tall, voluptuous redhead in her late forties and the mother of the twin hunters Paul and Sasha. She was dressed in combat boots, skin-tight jeans, a thigh-length leather jacket and wielded both shotgun and machete. She rolled her eyes at Dean and sighed.

"We ain't rookies, Dean. Let's go."

"After you," replied Dean, gesturing her out. "Call me when the nest is clear, Sam," he added.

They spent a good couple of hours canvassing the area, but Georgia and the twins had got to Coon Rapids a few days earlier than Dean and co., and had already done a lot of the groundwork. With their help he tracked the wolf pack down to an abandoned farmhouse on the edge of town, then went back to the squat (also of Georgia's finding) to prepare for the fight.

When two more hours passed without word from Sam and Cas and only voicemail in answer to his calls, Dean decided that he and Paul should head to the nest and investigate. Georgia would stay behind in case they returned.

As Dean reached the door of the impala something fell from above and hit the roof with a squelch. Blood spattered across his face. Within a second his knife was drawn and he looked around for the source of the disturbance, but all was quiet and still.

Dean turned around to see what had hit the car and grimaced. It was Sasha's head, and between his bloody teeth was stuffed a note.

"You're surrounded," he read, grimly.

* * *

What ensued was a bloody, gory, nasty fight. Both vampires and werewolves attacked at once and it took everything the three had to survive.

Georgia had been bitten by a wolf and her left leg was shredded, she cried out in pain from the floor behind Dean, surrounded by bodies and slashing at anything that came near.

Wave after wave of vamps and wolves attacked the hunters, wearing them down, exhausting them. Dean and Paul circled each other, trying to watch each other's backs and fend off the monsters that snarled at them, but there were too many.

Three vamps and two werewolves leapt at Dean at once, and Paul was too busy to realise. Five sets of teeth sank into Dean's flesh and tore at him. His blood mixed with countless others' on the floor as he fell to it, hitting his head with a sickening crack. Blood was in his mouth. He heard sickening laughter. Then all went dark.

* * *

The white light gradually faded and Dean's vision came back to him. He looked around slowly, shaking his head in disbelief at what he saw. He was sitting to the table in Bobby Singer's kitchen, a beer in one hand and a pizza in front of him. Everything was as he remembered – and very distinctly _not_ burned to a crisp.

"Dean. I must admit, I'm surprised to be seeing you so soon."

Dean groaned loudly, recognising the voice instantly.

"I knew something was up. I'm dying?" he said, turning to look at Death.

Death stood in the doorway, leaning on his cane and smiling vaguely.

"Of course you are. You don't have long left, actually."

"What happened this time?"

"You don't remember?" asked Death, and for a brief moment he looked almost surprised. "To be honest, it's disappointing. You're probably better off not knowing."

Dean snorted and took a few sips of beer. It was good. For a second he entertained the idea of just going with Death and experiencing good beer forever. The thought dissipated however when he thought of leaving Sam and Cas behind. His mind raced as he tried to think of some way to get out of his current sticky situation.

"If it's so disappointing, why did you come for me? Why not send a lackey?" he asked, stalling for time. As nonchalantly as he could, he stood up and started to pace around, gradually meandering his way towards the door. Death watched him.

"Believe me, Tessa was itching to be here, but it's so rare for me to build up a rapport with my… clients. I wanted to see you through myself."

"Well, I'm flattered," said Dean.

"You should be."

Dean didn't reply, but wrenched open the back door and geared up to run. He stopped in his tracks, however, when he saw that 'outside' was simply grey nothingness. Slowly, he turned back around.

"Your brain is shutting down, Dean. Like I said, you don't have long left. Why don't you sit? Have some pizza. I brought it especially, from the restaurant where we first met, do you remember? I thought it fitting."

Dean was struggling to think straight. He closed the door and walked back towards the table. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead a scream of pain escaped. A line of white light appeared across his chest, growing bigger and brighter by the second. The pain was unbearable and still the light got brighter, it filled the room and for the second time he was blinded. A high pitched whine filled his ears. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, everything stopped.

* * *

A/N: Feeling a bit unsure of myself with this part. It doesn't feel very good compared to the beginning. Is everyone following the timeline ok? I'm aware it's a bit jumpy. It'll be pretty linear from now on I think. Hopefully the next part will be good enough to make up for this shitshow.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam, Castiel and Sasha had walked straight into a trap.

There had been no sign that anything was amiss. It had looked like an ordinary nest full of sleeping vamps and they had gone in full of confidence. They had walked right into the middle of the old barn ready to start a fight, and been surrounded by holy fire.

Caught by surprise and severely outnumbered, Sasha and Sam were dragged through the flames. They put up a good fight, managing to decapitate a couple vamps and badly injure some others, but eventually they were overpowered and hauled away. Castiel watched, helpless, from within his fiery prison.

For a long while the angel was alone, desperately trying to think of a way out. Then the screams started, and he recognised one of them as Sam's.

"Sam?" he called, but got no answer. "Sam!"

He continued to call out for an unknown amount of time, but nothing happened. Still, he tried. Until;

"Sam, Sam, Sam," mocked a voice from the shadows. Castiel spun to face it but could see only a vague shape beyond the flames.

"Show yourself," he commanded. The figure moved, but did not step into the light. "Who are you?"

"Don't you remember me, Castiel? How could you forget your own brother?"

"I have many brothers," replied Cas, squinting into the darkness. "And I have killed many brothers still. Show yourself."

The shadow laughed. The laugh was feminine, but it was deep and echoed around the rafters. Slowly, the figure stepped forward to reveal a woman of Amazonian proportions. Tall and beautiful with a mane of dark, curly hair; her caramel skin glinted in the flickering firelight. Castiel saw none of this, gasping in surprise as he looked upon her true face.

"Raguel?"

"The one and only," she grinned, stepping closer. "How have you been, baby brother?"

"I thought you were dead," said Cas, tactful as ever.

"Dead? Me? No. Just resting. Letting the whole Apocalypse thing blow over for a while before I start my work anew. But you, you've been very busy, haven't you Castiel?" She started to circle around him as she spoke, edging closer then further away.

"Well, I-"

"Now now, don't be modest. You've had a hectic couple of years, from what I've heard. You fell, down, down, aallllll the way down," Raguel said, in a sing-song voice, twirling a little. She still grinned widely, then suddenly she looked murderous.

"You defied Heaven," she snapped. "You defied Father. You defied ME."

"I did what I had to, for the good of Humanity," replied Cas, voice level. Raguel had always been a little power-mad, but right now he seemed a little unhinged. In the background Sam's screams still rang out. Sasha's had long since stopped.

"For the good of Humanity! For the good of Humanity!" Raguel mocked, her voice babyish and unpleasant. "For the good of Dean Winchester, perhaps."

"Dean and I do share a special bond," Cas agreed, nodding.

"A special bond!" said Raguel, shrieking with laughter. "Oh, my dear little brother, you are so naïve." Abruptly she stopped laughing, stepping extremely close to the flames in order to look at him.

"Call it what you will, it matters not. You will never see him again. I am the Angel of Vengeance, charged with punishing the wicked. And Dean Winchester is oh, so wicked," she hissed.

Castiel had no time to reply before there was a commotion at the door. He turned to see a group of vampires entering the barn. They were accompanied, to his surprise, by a handful of werewolves. As they parted he saw that between them they carried the limp body of Dean.

"My darlings, welcome back!" cried Raguel, practically skipping towards them and clapping with glee. "Well done, well done. Just put him down here, that's it. Perhaps Castiel can have one last look after all. Now, scurry along, that's it darlings. Leave me to my business."

Gingerly, as if they were still afraid of him despite his current condition, the monsters placed Dean on the floor in front of the holy fire and hurried away. None of them looked Raguel directly in the eye.

Grinning, Raguel knelt down beside Dean and stroked his bloody face. She shot a pointed look at Castiel, then leaned down and kissed Dean gently on his forehead.

"I can see why you like him, little brother," she said softly. "But it won't save him."

"Raguel, please. What are you doing this for? God is gone. You don't have to punish anyone."

Raguel shrieked.

"God is alive, and He is here! He is everywhere! You defy Him every day, Castiel. I will punish Dean and I will make you watch, and when I am done I will punish you, too!"

Raguel raised one hand and it began to glow. Slowly she brought it closer to Dean's chest, then plunged into him. Yellow light spilled outwards and Dean began to writhe and cry out in pain as the angel touched his soul.

"Dean!" cried Cas, railing against the flickering walls of his prison. His skin hissed and burned as he touched the flames, but still he tried.

Dean screamed louder as Raguel began to pinch and scratch at his soul, tearing it, maiming it, destroying it. Then, suddenly, he kicked out and caught the angel full in the chest. She flew backwards into the flames, breaking the line and screaming in pain and rage.

Wasting no time, Cas used Raguel's body as a bridge to escape the holy fire. He hoisted Dean's unconscious body over his shoulder and teleported to a random motel room somewhere in Kansas.

Gently, he laid the hunter on the bed, making sure the pillow was fluffed and that the blankets were pulled to his chin. He used his sleeve to wipe the blood from Dean's face, as he had seen humans do before.

Hastily, he drew a few angel warding sigils on the walls and windows, then went back to rescue Sam.

* * *

A/N: Just a word of warning, I probably won't be able to post so much during the week, sorry. Have work to do and all that crap. But I'll write what I can, when I can, because I'm really enjoying this so far and the response has been lovely.


	5. Chapter 5

"I don't know what else I can do, Sam. I've tried healing him but it's like his wounds are… repelling me. I can feel the taint in him, from the vampires. It's reacting with the werewolf bites. And his soul… I don't know what Raguel did but I know something's wrong, and Dean is too weak for me to take a look. It could kill him if I tried."

Cas shook his head sadly, looking down at Dean's unconscious form. He looked so peaceful, but the angel could only imagine the war going on inside. He sighed heavily.

"Have you had any luck with your research?" he asked.

"No," said Sam, with a sigh of his own. "I've spoken to a few experienced hunters, they've never heard anything like it. I asked Garth to put the word out, but I'm not holding my breath. The Men of Letters are no help, either, so far. I'm still working my way through the files."

"Well, keep going. There has to be something. Don't stop until you find it."

Sam had not slept in three days and was about to tell Cas how little he appreciated the attitude, but the look on the angel's face stopped him. He had never seen a look quite like it; somewhere between heartbreak and despair, with a healthy dose of rage and determination. With a slight smile, he slipped away to continue his search.

Cas watched Sam leave, sinking slowly onto the bed beside Dean. Gently he placed one hand on the hunter's face and willed him to heal. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating all his power as he had done countless times over the past few days. He poured everything he had, more than was probably healthy to give, into Dean's body.

"Please, Dean," he said softly. "I don't know what to do without you. Please wake up."

* * *

A few more days passed in much the same manner. Dean did not so much as roll over in bed, and Castiel did not leave his side for a second. Sam fetched an IV and other necessary provisions from the bunker's infirmary, and helped to dress the still open wounds on Dean's body, but otherwise he was engrossed in research.

Every now and again he came across something he thought might help, and came rushing into Dean's room. Whenever he entered he saw the angel either trying to heal Dean, talking to him, or even dabbing his brow with a damp cloth. Each time Cas looked up with such hope in his eyes, and each time both of them were disappointed.

Sam refused to give up, and was running himself ragged trying to save his big brother, but it was clear even to him that Dean was only getting weaker. They were running out of time. It took him a while to gather himself, but eventually he decided that it was time to convince Cas that they needed to take more drastic measures.

Slowly he pushed open Dean's door, and his jaw dropped.

"Cas! What are you doing?"

Castiel was knelt on the bed beside Dean, elbow deep in the hunter's chest. The room was filled with a white glow and a high whining sound.

"Not now, Sam," he said.

"What do you mean, not now? What's going on?" Sam asked, racing to Dean's side. The older Winchester appeared to be fitting, and foamed at the mouth. Small moans escaped his blue-tinged lips. For lack of anything else to do, Sam helped hold him down.

"He was dying, Sam. I had to do something, I-"

Suddenly, Dean screamed loudly and sat bolt upright, flinging Sam and Cas to opposite sides of the room. His eyes were finally open, but they glowed white.

"What the hell did you do, Cas?" Sam cried, getting to his feet.

"I gave him my Grace."

* * *

A/N: I wasn't going to write today, but these boys are all I can think about. Somebody help me.


	6. Chapter 6

"You did what?" said Sam, eyes wide with disbelief.

A sudden wind began to blow around the room, picking up magazines, clothes and other miscellanea and flinging them around. The sheets whipped around Dean where he sat on the bed, stock still with eyes still aglow.

"My Grace, Sam. I gave him my Grace. I wasn't expecting this, however," replied Cas, getting to his own feet. He looked at Dean with equal parts confusion and worry.

"What do you mean? What's happening to him?"

Dean still did not move, but the wind was getting stronger. The high pitched whine was extremely loud now and began to hurt their ears.

"I don't know," said the angel.

"VA TE CA RA," began Dean. His voice was flat and emotionless.

"Enochian," said Sam.

"Yes. He's reciting his angel commands. _My_ angel commands."

"Well, what do we do? How do we fix it?"

"Normally I would suggest inserting pins. I don't think that would be a good idea in this instance."

"Well we can't leave him like this!" said Sam, exasperated. The feeling of being so powerless was really grating on him, as was his severe lack of sleep. Warily, he stepped closer to the bed and bent down beside Dean's face.

"VA TE CA RA," boomed Dean, oblivious. Sam flinched.

"Dean? Dean, can you hear me? Wake up!"

"SAL VL D. Z BALIT SA TVLE," said Dean.

"Dean!" Sam tried waving his hand in front of his brother's face. He tried poking him in the chest. He tried pinching him. He pulled at his eyelids, held his nose shut, shouted in his ear – Dean was rock solid. He sat on the bed, defeated, as his brother continued to chant in Enochian.

On the other side of the room, Castiel had watched this display in silent contemplation. When Sam gave up he made a thoughtful noise, then stepped close and socked Dean in the face. The wind died as he fell back into the pillows, unconscious once more. Sam's jaw dropped.

"What? At least now he's stopped chanting," said Cas.

"And when he wakes up again?"

"I don't know."

Cas stood at the foot of the bed, leaning heavily on the footboard. Sam looked at him with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes," said Cas, doing his best to straighten up. "No. Sort of. Something very strange happened. I think perhaps I still have some small part of my Grace. I don't feel like an angel any more, but I don't feel human either."

"So, what does that mean? What about Dean?" frowned Sam.

"I don't know. To my knowledge this has never been done before. Why would an angel ever give up his grace for a human?"

"Why _did_ you?" asked Sam, looking sideways at him.

"Wouldn't you do anything in your power to save him?" Castiel asked.

"I'd do what I could. But he's my brother, I love him," Sam said.

"Yes," Cas replied simply.

* * *

It wasn't long before Dean woke again, but this time there was no mighty wind or strange glow, he simply opened his eyes and groaned.

"Dean!" said Sam and Cas in unison, peering down at him.

"What is this, a slumber party?" said Dean, pushing himself upright. "Give me some room, jeez."

Hunter and angel scrambled back out of Dean's way, both watching him as if he could explode at any moment. Dean frowned at them.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?"

Sam said nothing and simply hugged his big brother, squeezing him tightly for a moment then parting with a few pats on the neck. Dean looked confused, but hugged back.

Almost as soon as Sam had let him go he found Cas in his arms instead. His confusion doubled, but he hugged back all the same, a slight smile pulling at his lips.

"Is someone gonna tell me what all this is about?" he asked, looking between them.

"What do you remember?" asked Sam.

"We were in the motel… Then, nothing," he shrugged. "Why, what happened?"

"It's not important," said Cas, hurriedly. "How do you feel? Are you alright?"

Dean's entire body ached and his head was fuzzier than a bad hangover. His chest felt like it was full of angry bees, and his face felt like it had been hit by an angry bear. On top of that his stomach growled like he hadn't eaten in a week.

"Peachy," he said. "A cheeseburger couldn't hurt, though."

"You don't feel… different?" persisted Cas.

"Should I?"

"Uh, no. No, just checking," he replied, avoiding Sam's pointed look.

"Ooookay then. Well, you guys can fill me in on everything, but first I gotta take a leak and get some eats," Dean said, smiling goofily at his rhyme. Cas returned the smile. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Welcome back, Dean."

* * *

"So what you're telling me is that this Raguel guy, this Angel of Vengeance or whatever he calls himself, arranged the whole thing just to lure us out and kill us? Seems like overkill, if you ask me," said Dean. He leaned back in his chair, popping the top off his beer with a satisfying hiss.

"Strictly speaking Raguel is not the 'Angel of Vengeance'," said Cas. "He was appointed by God to keep everyone in accordance with His laws. He has always been a little theatrical, but there's something wrong with him. He is… Well, he appears to have gone mad."

"Great, just what we need. Another crazy friggin angel with a vendetta against us."

"He got the jump on us this time," said Sam, "but we know he's out there now. We've killed angels before, we can take him down just the same."

Sam yawned loudly. His eyes were getting increasingly hard to keep open. He noticed Castiel move awkwardly, as if he were trying to stifle his own yawn, and shot him a look. Cas looked back, giving him an almost imperceptible shake of the head before looking back towards Dean.

"Dude, when was the last time you got some shut-eye?" asked Dean, noticing for the first time the dark circles under his brother's eyes. "Go to bed. I'm fine, I promise."

Sam hesitated, but Dean appeared to be normal now and it had been a very long week. With a muttered g'night and a slap on the shoulder as he passed, he excused himself for bed.

Dean and Castiel sat in silence for a little while after Sam had left. It was a testament to their friendship that they were able to enjoy each other's company without talking. But eventually, as usual, Dean spoke.

"I, uh, I heard you, you know. Talking to me, when I was unconscious."

"You did? I wasn't sure if you would. I'm glad," replied Cas, smiling faintly.

"You're glad? I figured some of that stuff was kinda, well, private," Dean said, somewhat awkwardly.

"Private? I was talking to you, Dean. Why wouldn't I want you to hear it?"

"See, this is the crap I was talking about in Minnesota. This is why I asked you not to come back here. Do you even know what you're saying half the time? Do you know how it comes off?"

"I don't understand," said Cas, brow furrowed. "Am I not supposed to tell you how I feel? We have talked about our feelings many times, Dean."

"I know, but before it was always… Well, now I realise… And you never… Ah, damn it, I don't know," said Dean, frustrated.

"What's the matter?" asked Cas, concerned. He wondered if the Grace inside Dean was beginning to have adverse effects.

"Nothing, don't worry," said Dean. With a sigh, he put down his near-empty bottle and stood up.

"For the record, I don't know what I'd do without you either, buddy," he said, patting Cas on the shoulder as he walked towards his bedroom.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this part. I've had a block about it and no matter how many times I rewrite it something feels off, so I figured I'd just release it and see how the next part plays out. I know this part was very stationary and dialogue heavy too, so let me know how you feel about that.


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel was finding life a little more difficult since he had downloaded most of his Grace to Dean. He was constantly tired, hungry, cold – in fact he seemed to be experiencing the full range of human functions and emotions. Which wasn't at all a bad price to pay for Dean's life, he reasoned, but it was becoming a chore to try and hide it from him.

Sam questioned him at every opportunity; why didn't he tell Dean? What was going to happen to him? What was going to happen to Dean? _Why wouldn't he tell Dean?_ It was exhausting.

Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure why he couldn't tell Dean. He had tried a few times, but he was finding it increasingly hard to hold a conversation with the man. Dean was being deliberately distant, and seemed to be going out of his way to avoid being alone with him. He confined himself to his bedroom, devoting his time to tracking down Raguel.

When Cas _did_ manage to speak to him, he found himself tripping over his words as if English had suddenly become a foreign language to him. He was clumsy on top of it, somehow managing to make a fool out of himself every time.

All this meant a quiet and stressful few days in the bunker until, finally, Sam got a lead on some of Raguel's followers. He roused Dean and Cas, leaving them to get their gear together for the trip. They packed in silence, taking in turns to glance at one another.

Eventually, Dean coughed and straightened up, meeting Cas' eyes briefly as he gave him a thorough once-over.

"You, uh, why aren't you wearing your trenchcoat?" he asked.

"Oh, well, Sam thought it would be better if I wore a disguise. Everyone recognises the coat, so he thought it might give us a slight advantage," replied Cas, shrugging.

"Looks good," said Dean, nodding in approval at the angel's newly acquired jeans and plaid shirt. They were a little too big, having been borrowed from Sam, but they suited him. He looked rugged, like a hunter.

"It's missing something though," added Dean, looking thoughtful. "Here," he said, picking up the jacket he had planned to wear and tossing it to Cas.

Cas shrugged it on and fiddled with it, rather unsure of himself. Clothes were not his strong point.

"No, not like that," said Dean, sighing as he watched Cas struggle, though he could feel the ghost of a smile pull at his lips. He took a few steps closer and pulled at the jacket, straightening it.

"Like this," he said softly, untucking the collar where Cas had gotten it caught in his shirt, and positioning it properly.

Cas said nothing. Dean was close enough that he could feel his warm breath on his face. He forced himself to meet the hunter's gaze and for a brief moment they just looked at one another. Then Dean stepped back, dropping his eyes and nodding again.

"Better. You look like a hunter now. I'll meet you at the car," he said, and then he was gone.

* * *

"Okay, we can do this one of two ways," said Dean, looking down at the chair in front of him – it contained one of Raguel's foot soldiers, a vampire they had captured and brought to an abandoned warehouse to be interrogated. "I'm sure you know what your options are, so are you gonna talk or not?"

The vampire looked up with bloodshot eyes. It took most of her energy just to lift her head. Dead man's blood still coursed through her, like anaesthetic.

"Go to hell," she said, spitting before letting her head fall to her chest again.

"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea," said Dean. He reached forward and grabbed her hair, yanking her head up so that she had no choice but to look at him. He held a machete to her throat, just hard enough that it nicked the skin.

"Now this is your last chance. Either you die and we move on to one of your comrades, or you tell us what you know and we let you get the hell out of here. Which is it gonna be?"

The girl glared at Dean for a moment, silent. All three men tensed, waiting to spring into some kind of action. They breathed a collective sigh of relief as she closed her eyes and nodded gently.

"Alright. I'll tell you what I know. It's not much, but if it saves my ass, so be it."

Dean pulled up another chair, sitting backwards on it and resting his arms on the back, watching her. Sam and Cas stood one on either side of him, like movie henchmen.

"Raguel is mad, but he's promising us all kinds of rewards and most of us don't have anything better to do than to follow him. Even if he doesn't follow through, it gives us purpose, you know?"

"Get to the good bits," Dean said, gruff.

"Well, for a start he wants you dead. You, your brother, your angel boyfriend over there. You broke the rules, all of you."

"But why is Raguel working with you?" Cas asked, stepping forward. "Why would an angel work with monsters?"

"He says Heaven abandoned him. He doesn't trust any angels. Well, except Michael."

Dean shared a look with Sam and Cas. It was a look of dread and a reluctance to ask the question.

"The Archangel Michael?" asked Sam.

"That's him," said the girl, nodding. Her strength was returning as the dead blood wore off, and she sat a little straighter in her chair, a little more defiantly.

"That cannot be," said Castiel, shaking his head. "Michael is in the cage with Lucifer. He's trapped in hell."

"No, he's here. I saw him. Heard him talking with Raguel. He's not too happy about you guys, either. He seemed mad at Raguel for trying to kill you though, Dean. Apparently you're important."

"But how? How could Michael get out of the cage?" asked Sam, stepping closer. The three of them crowded her, all desperate to know more.

"Beats me. I'm just a lowly servant, nobody tells me that stuff. But I know what I heard. Michael's back and he's looking for his vessel."


	8. Chapter 8

The vampire struggled weakly at her bonds, but she was still suffering from the effects of dead man's blood. Sam, Dean and Cas watched her with vague disinterest from the other side of the warehouse.

"Do you think she's telling the truth?" said Sam, brow creased with worry.

"If she was going to lie to us, it wouldn't make sense for her to tell us something like this," replied Cas.

"I'll tell you what doesn't make sense," said Dean. "How did Michael get out? He was locked in there tight. We didn't go through all that for nothing. And why does he want me? As far as we know, Lucifer's still down there, so the big fight is still off."

"What if he's not?" said Sam, and for a brief moment he looked afraid.

The three exchanged glances. They had too many questions and not nearly enough answers.

"I'm sure we'd have heard something if Lucifer was out," said Cas, trying to reassure Sam.

"Yeah, sure," said Sam, not convinced.

"No, Cas is right," said Dean, giving Sam a reassuring pat on the back. "We've heard nothing about Lucifer, but Michael is back, apparently. He's what we need to focus on. Sam, I think you should head back to the bunker and start calling up your contacts, see if anyone else has caught wind of this. Cas and I can stay here and lean on the vamps, try and get a better lead on Raguel or Michael. Alright?" He didn't mention the fact that Sam would be safest hidden in the bunker – if there was even a slim chance that Lucifer was back, Dean wanted Sam as far away as possible.

"I… Are you sure?" asked Sam. He directed the question to Dean, but he looked at Castiel. The angel nodded subtly, out of Dean's eyeshot.

"Yes I'm sure, why wouldn't I be sure?" said Dean.

"Uh, just checking. I'll see you guys later, then," said Sam, still a little hesitant. He glanced between Cas and Dean, then sighed and left, shaking his head as he went.

Dean's eyes followed Sam until the door closed, then snapped back to Cas.

"What the hell's going on, Cas?" he said. "Michael, seriously? I thought we were done with that dick."

"I know as much as you do, Dean. I thought we were done with Michael, too."

"So what are we gonna do? We can't le-"

Dean stopped, his mouth hanging open. His eyes glazed as he stared off into the distance, listening intently, brow furrowed. He was like this for a few long moments until finally he snapped back, bewilderment clear on his face.

"Did you hear that?" he asked.

"Hear what? Nothing happened," said Cas, concerned. "Are you alright, Dean?" he asked, stepping closer. He placed a hand on Dean's arm and looked intently at him.

Dean froze at his touch. He refused to meet Cas' eye as he replayed what he had heard. It had sounded like many things at once. It sounded like the high pitched whine he had come to associate with angel's true voices. It also sounded like Enochian, but somehow he had understood it, despite Sam's many failed attempts at teaching him. On top of that it sounded like something much harder to describe; like voices or thoughts inside his head, inside his being, that he knew didn't belong to him. They had all talked at once, like an auditorium filled with excited people, then suddenly they had stopped.

He had managed to pick out a few words from the cacophony. His name, Michael's, Cas', Sam's, Raguel's… In those few seconds he had heard a thousand conversations and they all talked about things nobody could know. Unless…

"Cas," Dean said slowly, meeting the angel's intense blue stare, "what does angel rad-"

His sentence turned into a too-late cry of warning as a knife plunged between Cas' shoulder blades. The angel grunted in pain, falling to his knees beside Dean. Before he had chance to pick up his own blade the vampire came at him instead, thrusting her knife towards his chest. Dean tried to deflect it and the blade buried itself in his arm instead. He felt it scratch along his ulna but to his surprise, felt no pain. He would wonder about it later, he thought.

Dean jerked his arm, wrenching the knife out of the vampire's grasp. He pulled the blade out of his flesh and brandished it at her. His own crimson blood dripped from the tip and he could see that she was torn between her inhuman hunger and her fear. That second of indecision was all he needed; he stepped forward and slashed at her neck, severing her windpipe. She fell to the floor in a tangled heap, trying feebly to get away, but Dean towered over her with menace in his eyes. Two more slashes and her head rolled across the floor.

Dean dropped the knife with a clatter and slid to his knees beside Cas, breathing a sigh of relief as he saw the angel's eyelid's flutter.

"Cas," he said softly, unsure of himself. "Cas, buddy, since when does a little pig-sticker like that put you out of action? Come on, up you get."

He put an arm around the other man, supporting him as best he could without touching the wound. Cas groaned loudly and he stopped, at a loss. Blood saturated the borrowed jacket.

"Dean," said Cas, somewhat feebly. "I need your help, please, and don't question me."

"I, uh, okay?"

Slowly Cas reached across and took Dean's free hand. It felt unusually cold and for a moment he just held it, as if to warm it up. He could feel Dean's eyes boring into him but refused to meet them, afraid to see if they were as cold as his skin.

Equally slowly, he brought Dean's hand up and placed it on his own face. Dean took the initiative and cupped Cas' cheek gently, and though his face betrayed his confusion, he said nothing. He wasn't sure he trusted himself to speak.

Cas' hand rested on top of Dean's. He took a few laboured breaths, then closed his eyes, instructing Dean to do the same.

"Now, this is going to sound very strange, but I need you to uh, gather your consciousness," said Cas. "And then you have to, to push it towards me, through your hand, and into my body."

"You want me to what?" said Dean, opening his eyes.

"I said don't question me," Cas snapped. He wasn't used to pain, especially not this much pain. He took a few more deep, difficult breaths.

"I'm sorry. I'll explain everything later, I promise. Please, just trust me and do as I say."

"Alright," replied Dean. He adjusted his hand slightly, his thumb brushing the stubble on Cas' pale cheek.

"Now, gather your consciousness and push it into me. Seek out my injuries, feel the hole in my heart and knit it back together with your will."

Dean shook his head as if he couldn't quite believe what he was doing, then squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated. It was, to his surprise, something that came easily to him. He felt his sense of self become like a ball of light. It travelled down his arm, through his fingers and into Castiel's body.

The injuries stood out to him like black and white and his little ball of consciousness drifted towards them, watching them heal as he got closer. He saw the hole in Cas' heart close up, the blood draw back into his body and the skin stitch back together. It took seconds.

He felt a flood of relief and wellbeing that he recognised as Cas' consciousness and he drifted close to it, trying to reach out to it, to touch it. A tendril of him brushed it and he felt an incredible shock like he had been electrocuted, then suddenly he was back in his body, looking down at his reflection in the angel's smiling eyes.

* * *

This is all over the place. I'm all over the place. Sorry.


End file.
